


Common and Cliché

by bryoneybrynn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Homophobic Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 05:15:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3965749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bryoneybrynn/pseuds/bryoneybrynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aurors Malfoy and Potter have to work a case on Beltane. It would be simple if everything wasn't so damn distracting.... For those of you who are wondering, yes, I've tried to cram in as many h/d clichés as possible. But hopefully the story works as a story, too. It's not crack!fic by a long shot but it is a bit tongue-in-cheek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Common and Cliché

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dysonrules](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dysonrules/gifts).



> Written a couple years ago for dysonrules to celebrate the joyous anniversary of her birth.
> 
> Forgive the disjointed nature of the fic - I’ve worked on it in bits and pieces for a few years and I’m afraid it shows. Plus, this one is just a bit of silliness. The characterization is a mess and it has holes big enough to drive trucks through (though some of these holes are intentional - as the title implies, there are a few clichés in this fic). 
> 
> Also, I should probably say that I think the term “a-maying” actually refers to gathering greenery and flowers from the woods on May Day, but I’ve taken some liberties with it for the sake of furthering the ~~smut~~ story.
> 
> Oh, and I stole the idea that Beltane affects wizards especially from , who is missed.
> 
>  **Warnings:** Draco in half-a-robe, pantsless Harry, swearing, lots and lots of people having random-stranger-sex, and some strong homophobic language (I know, but you just gotta trust me on this one)
> 
>  **Beta: marguerite_26** ; **Britpick: winterstorrm** \- thanks to both lovelies for the speedy turnaround on this! I played after they were done, so all remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** This is a work of fanfiction. Harry Potter et al belong to JK Rowling, her publishers and associated movie studios. No profit was made from this work. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of 18.

Common and Cliché

“Stop that.”

Harry looked up, eyebrows raised quizzically. He had no idea what his current offense was but it was earning him the patented Malfoy death glare. “Stop what?” 

“Flicking your pen against the edge of your desk!” Draco snapped. “Your little rat-a-tat-tats are starting to crawl on my nerves.”

“Sorry.” 

Draco glared a minute more before returning to his work. Harry didn’t really blame him for being crabby. Harry hated paperwork days. He hated sitting behind his desk; he much preferred being out in the field. And for some reason, today he was finding it especially difficult to sit still. His body just wanted to be _moving_. 

Without realising what he was doing, he started tapping his pen against the edge of the desk again in a rapid, fidgety rhythm.

Draco whirled around in his chair. “Potter!” 

Harry froze. Then he noticed the pen in his hand. “Right.” He tossed the pen onto his desk with a sigh. “Sorry. I’m just feeling restless today.”

Draco smirked and gave Harry a knowing look. 

Harry stared blankly back. Whatever the joke was, he wasn’t getting it. 

After a moment, Draco rolled his eyes, and, without leaving his own seat, tossed a folder onto Harry’s desk. “Sign that.”

Harry snagged the file. “What is it?”

“My report on Jameson. Sign it.”

Harry opened the file and glanced over the report, picking out the important details. The Jameson case, finally done. The thing had been a nightmare from start to finish.

Draco sighed loudly, drawing Harry’s attention away from the report. “Don’t read it. Just sign it.”

“My name’s on this thing, too, you know.”

Draco waved a hand at him dismissively. “Please, I think we both know who writes the more accurate report.”

“Point.” Harry said with a nod. He signed his name in all the appropriate spots and handed it back to Draco.

Draco immediately took the report out to their secretary. When he returned, he paused in the doorway of their office and threw his hands up in the air with a flourish. “And so it is finished!” 

Draco dropped back into his chair, pushing both hands through his hair before stretching luxuriously. Harry carefully looked away from Draco’s long limbs and arching torso. It was much, much harder to do than it should have been. Not that it was ever easy to look away from Draco – all that lean muscle and pale skin – but at that moment, it seemed almost impossible.

Harry could feel his blood travelling south. He closed his eyes tight and thought of McGonagall in nothing but tartan knickers until he felt his prick return to normal.

Merlin, what was with him today?

“God, that feels good,” Draco continued. “Seven months of research and tracking and surveillance and now, finally, the bastard’s rotting in his cell, the paper work is done, and the case is officially closed.” He grinned over at Harry. “I think that deserves a bit of celebration. What do you say to a liquid lunch?”

Harry grinned back. “Why not?”

“Just you and me or do you want to rally the troops and make it a long one?”

“Better not. Kingsley’s still sore about last week.”

The week previous, when they’d actually brought Jameson in, he and Draco had called all their friends to the Fox’s Den for a celebratory lunch. One that hadn’t ended until well past midnight. Kingsley had been less than impressed with their unauthorized afternoon off. 

Draco shrugged. “Just as well. I’ve had my eye on the bar maid there but I can’t work my charms properly when Granger’s around. That woman is like my mother or something. I feel ashamed of myself for even having a dirty thought in her presence.”

Harry smiled. Hearing Draco speak so easily about Hermione never failed to amaze him. Although it was equally amazing that, given his general acumen at reading people, Draco still didn’t have Hermione figured out after all this time. 

Draco took in Harry’s smile and his eyes narrowed. “What?”

Harry’s smiled broadened. “Nothing. It’s just that your impressions of Hermione are so off sometimes.”

“What do you mean?” Draco asked, and then a sly expression replaced his suspicious one. “Oh, is she kinky?” Sly gave way to delighted; Draco’s eyes positively gleamed. “She is, isn’t she? A kinky little minx. Of course she is! No one that bossy could possibly leave the attitude out of the bedroom. Does she use a whip? A paddle? I’ll bet she’s a hard mistress. I can just picture her, all geared up in black and taking no lip. The Weasel must just –”

Harry cut him off, unwanted images of Hermione in a leather cat-suit, brandishing a riding crop suddenly surging to forefront of his mind. “Hermione is _not_ a dominatrix, Draco.”

“How do you know? She could be.” 

“Could you just take my word on this one? Please?”

By the time Harry realised exactly how that sounded, Draco had already crossed the room. He perched on the edge of Harry’s desk, leaning towards him. If he’d looked delighted before, he was ecstatic now.

“Bloody hell, have you shagged her?”

Harry gave Draco a disbelieving look. “Um, gay, remember?”

Draco smirked. “Doesn’t mean you couldn’t have had a drunken go back in the day.” He looked at Harry expectantly, eyes dancing. 

Harry glanced away. “No, I haven’t shagged her.” 

He wished Draco weren’t sitting so close. Especially not while they talked about sex, even if it was sex with Hermione. It was distracting, to say the least, and Harry’s friendship with Draco depended heavily on not getting distracted. Or not obviously distracted, anyway. He couldn’t help being a bit distracted whenever Draco was in the room. 

He shifted in his seat, all too aware of the heated feeling crawling over his skin and pooling in his belly. He really wasn’t handling things at all well today.

“Still, I wonder what she’d be like in bed,” Draco mused, seemingly unaware of the impact his proximity was having on Harry. “I bet you’re right. I bet she’s a real hellcat.”

“I never said that.” Harry was pleased when his voice came out sounding normal.

“You implied it.”

“I did not! All I said was that you have some misperceptions of Hermione.”

“Right, because I thought she was uptight when really she’s –”

Harry cut him off. “Enough! We’re not talking about this anymore.”

“Oh, Potter. Relax. I’m just taking the piss. Honestly, sometimes you’re no fun at all.”

Harry was about to object when a paper airplane winged into the room at top speed, nearly hitting him in the head. He plucked the memo out of the air and read it. He frowned.

“What does it say?” Draco asked.

“Shacklebolt wants to see us.”

Draco put on a frown to match Harry’s. “So much for our celebratory drink.”

***

Kingsley seemed tense when they arrived. He had always been more about business than small talk but today he didn’t even say hello. Instead, he launched into a discussion of the case before Harry and Draco were even through the door.

“Here’s the situation,” Kingsley said, nodding to the chairs in front of his desk, indicating they should sit. “We’ve got a lead on Marcus Halebury but we’ve got to move fast.”

“Halebury?” Harry asked, taking a seat. Beside him, Draco did the same. “Aren’t Grant and Lewis on that case?”

“They are,” Kingsley said with a nod, “but they’re out on assignment right now. I can’t pull them in for this without risking their current operation so I’m handing it over to you.”

Kingsley picked up a file off his desk. Without hesitating, he handed it to Draco. Draco smirked – he liked to fancy himself the brains of their little duo, and Harry had to admit he was probably right – and then started to flip through its contents. 

“Word is Halebury is going to be at a big Beltane celebration tonight,” Kingsley continued. “I want you two to infiltrate and bring him in.”

“A Beltane celebration?” Draco gave a low whistle. “That’s ballsy of him.”

“It’s in the south of Ireland. Our last contact put him in France, so perhaps he’s assuming no one knows he’s moved. Or perhaps he’s just counting on no one noticing him in the excitement of all the festivities.

“ _No one_ noticing him?” Draco asked, leering. “Doesn’t that rather defeat the purpose of going?”

Kingsley ignored him. “All the information you need is in there,” he said, gesturing to the file. “Including Portkeys for each of you. You’re undercover, so dress appropriately. And behave yourselves; remember, you’re Aurors. 

And then he was waving them out of the office, shutting the door behind them so quickly it almost hit them.

“Jesus,” Harry said, giving the door a baleful look. “Someone’s in a mood today.”

Draco gaped at him. Harry stared back, confused. After a few moments, it became apparent Draco wasn’t going to explain himself, so Harry shrugged it off. They’d been partners for two years now, but there were still many, many things about Draco Malfoy that Harry didn’t get.

He motioned to the file in Draco’s hand. “I’ll grab us some lunch, you get started on that?”

Draco smirked. “Pawning the reading off on me again?”

Harry shoved him. “Shut it. I’ll be back in a bit.” 

He hurried toward the lifts before Draco could object.

It wasn’t that Harry was trying to avoid the background reading for the case. In fact, reading up on new cases was one of the few bits of paperwork Harry enjoyed. He liked those early stages, getting to know the target, fleshing out a plan. It was paperwork that came after the arrests that was a pain in the arse. Today, though, he’d be relieved to dump it on Malfoy. He just needed to get out of the office for a bit. He needed to stretch his legs and get his blood flowing. Well, flowing away from his cock at any rate. He fidgeted impatiently in the lift, wishing it would go a little faster.

It was a beautiful day outside, bright and sunny. There was a gentle breeze and Harry swore that even in the middle of central London, it carried the smell of spring flowers. He wandered around for a bit, breathing in the fresh air, letting it clear his mind. Once he felt sufficiently relaxed and back in control of his libido, he set about finding some lunch.

***

Rounding the corner toward the office he shared with Draco, Harry heard voices drifting out into the hall. He paused to see if he could determine who it was.

“ – but I told her that it wouldn’t be possible, so you’re off the hook.”

It was a woman’s voice, warm and thick like honey. Parkinson.

Last year, Draco had helped Pansy Parkinson secure a job as an administrative assistant in the department. Not that she needed the money, of course. She’d made that clear enough on more than one occasion. But, apparently, she liked working and Harry had to admit she was good at her job. She was smart and organised and seemed to love bossing Aurors around. She had half the office more terrified of her than they were of Kinglsey. She was also at the very hub of the DMLE rumour mill and frequently dropped by over the lunch hour to fill them in on the latest gossip. In a strange sort of way, Harry had come to enjoy her visits, though at times it was hard to watch her and Draco carry on. They were always touching each other and sharing special smiles, flirting playfully, even though Harry knew they were nothing more than friends. 

Today, however, Harry definitely wasn’t in the mood for a lunchtime visit from Parkinson. He was too hungry and he knew her; if he went in there with fresh chips and sandwiches, she’d steal his for sure. Not Draco’s, of course. He’d say no to her, push her out the door if she got whiny about it. But Harry never seemed to be able to refuse her. Parkinson knew just how to phrase things so Harry didn’t feel he could say no. And he didn’t want to give away his lunch today. He hung back, waiting for her to leave.

He heard Draco laugh and there was a squeak of wheels and the soft sound of fabric brushing against fabric. Listening, Harry was almost certain that Draco had pulled Parkinson into his lap. “Thanks, Pans. I just can’t deal with my mother sometimes. Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Keep me in fine wine and expensive jewellery and you’ll never have to find out.” 

There was a pause then and Harry seen them together so many times, he could easily picture them now in his mind’s eye. Parkinson would be running her fingers through Draco’s fair hair and Draco’s hand would be spread across her lower back, rubbing in small circles. On days when Harry was honest with himself, he was jealous of these little gestures of affection between them. He knew it was something he’d never get to share with Draco. 

“So,” Parkinson continued after a moment. “This new case, word has it that you and Potter are going out to a big Beltane bash tonight.

“That was fast. Nice to know the department rumour mill isn’t above compromising our case to get its jollies.”

“Oh, lighten up,” Parkinson said, and Harry was sure she was giving Draco a playful poke. “It’s not like it ever leaves the department.”

Draco grunted an acknowledgement.

When Parkinson spoke again, her voice was low and suggestive. “So, Beltane bash... Planning on getting a little action on the side tonight?”

“Pansy, I’ll be working.” Draco’s voice held no teasing tone. If anything, he sounded displeased. “With Potter.”

“Maybe you’ll get a little action with Potter, then.”

There was a pause so loaded that Harry didn’t need to see Draco’s face to know he’d be scowling. “Don’t be revolting.”

“Would it really be so bad?” 

“Yes. Yes it would be.”

“I don’t know,” Parkinson said thoughtfully. “He’s certainly grown up since Hogwarts. No more runty, scrawny Potter. Now he’s all tall and broad-shouldered and yummy.”

Draco huffed, apparently irritated. “Yes, we all know you think Harry is yummy. Now shut up about it before he gets back here. You know how he gets when you make those sorts of jokes.”

“Who’s joking?”

“Pansy...”

“What? I’m just saying getting jumped by a horny Potter in the swirly madness of Beltane is hardly the worst thing that could happen to a person.”

“Yes, well, I disagree. Just the thought of it is making me sick to my stomach.”

Harry frowned. Draco was straight, very much so. Harry had always known that and so he didn’t expect Draco to return his interest. But, still, he liked to think that the thought of kissing him wasn’t vomit-inducing.

“Hmmm,” Parkinson hummed, sounding unimpressed. It was a hum Harry knew well. He often got it when Parkinson felt he was acting like an idiot or a Gryffindor, though, really, to her they were the same thing. “Well, I certainly hope Potter arrives with your lunch soon. You’re positively grumpy.” 

“Yes, yes, I’m the rain on your parade, the bezoar in your poison. Now do you mind? I have some work to do.”

There was another squeaking sound, presumably the two of them rising from the chair. Sure enough, the office door cracked open. Harry pressed back into the corner, hoping to escape notice.

He watched as Parkinson tossed her dark, glossy hair over one shoulder. “Fine. But you owe me for getting you out of that dinner. Big. Two carats at least. And you will have to speak to your mother yourself sooner or later. I can only hold her off for so long. I’m not getting on her bad side just because you’re in one of your moods.”

Draco rolled his eyes, gave her a kiss – one that lasted a little too long, in Harry’s opinion – and went back into the office. Parkinson turned and headed toward the lifts. Harry watched her disappear around the corner, counted to twenty and then entered the office.

Draco jumped to his feet at Harry’s arrival, running to grab the bags from Harry’s hands. “Finally! Leave a man on death’s door, why don’t you?”

Harry laughed. “About to die of starvation were you? A mere five hours after breakfast?”

“Fortunately, we’ll never know,” Draco said as he pulled the Styrofoam containers out of the bag. “But in my estimation, it was a close thing. What the hell took you so long?”

“I went for a bit of a walk.”

“Still feeling restless?” Draco asked, the knowing smirk back on his face.

It was starting to get annoying. “What is with you?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Draco shook his head, a genuine smile replacing the smirk. “Come. Sit. Eat. I’ll fill you in on the many fascinating things I’ve learned about our Mr Halebury.”

“Please tell me for once in your life you’re not being sarcastic and this really is a fascinating case.”

Draco’s mouth was full of sandwich but he gave Harry a look that told him exactly how fascinating the case wasn’t. Harry sighed. 

They ate their lunch and went over the case. They sketched a rough plan of approach. Until they got to the scene and saw what they were dealing with, they couldn’t plan anything more detailed. They spent some time trying to guess at possible scenarios for the arrest, anticipating problems and assessing the weaknesses of their strategy. It was a fairly straightforward job, though, and after an hour or so, they were as prepared as they could be. 

Draco arched back in another of his highly distracting stretches. “Well, that’s it. I think we’re set,” he said, and settled back into his chair. “I’m going to take off. I have a couple of things I need to take care of in case this thing turns into an all-nighter.”

“Sure, that’s fine.”

Draco gave Harry a considering look. “You feel good about this?”

Harry shrugged. It was a simple enough assignment.

“You have your Portkey?” Draco asked.

Harry reached across his desk to pat the envelope containing the battered badge. “Right here.”

“And you know what you’re going to wear tonight?” 

“Er...”

Draco rolled his eyes. “We’re going to a Beltane celebration. You have to blend in. You do have something you can wear, something appropriate?”

Harry gave him a sour look. “Yes, I have something appropriate.”

Draco looked doubtful for a moment but then he shrugged and started for the door. “Okay, I’ll see you there at nine.”

“Yes, Draco. I’ll see you there at nine.”

***

At nine o’clock sharp, Harry activated his Portkey. A few seconds later, stumbling a bit on his landing, he arrived in a small clearing. He looked around, taking in his surroundings. It was quiet and dark, the night sky awash with stars. The clearing was full of long grasses and tiny flowers. Harry imagined it was very pretty during the day, sunny and warm and colourful. It was pretty at night, too, he supposed, the inky blues and purples making it seem mysterious and alluring somehow, as though its shadows hid secret temptations.

He heard a soft pop and turned toward it but it wasn’t Draco. It was just another party-goer, eager to get to the celebrations. The figure hurried over the rise of the nearby hill before Harry could get a good look at him. According to their information, the Beltane celebration should be just over that hill. Harry peered toward it. The sky did look brighter over there. The bonfire was probably enormous.

He turned his attention back to the clearing when a figure suddenly appeared and began striding towards him. It was Draco. He looked better than he had any right to on a job, all long-limbed and graceful, pale hair and pale skin gleaming white in the moonlight. It was only when Draco was a few feet away that Harry realised just how much pale skin was on display.

“Jesus, Draco! What the hell are you wearing?

Draco was dressed in a grey sleeveless robe that seemed to be made of some kind of thin, slippery material. It fell open almost to his waist, held closed there by only a thin silver cord. He had a silver band around each of his biceps, a leather strap around his throat, and his skin seemed to be _shining_ , his arms, chest and neck glittering in the moonlight. 

“What the hell am _I_ wearing?” Draco repeated, sounding annoyed. “What the hell are _you_ wearing?”

Harry looked down at his jeans and jumper. “Um...”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Let me guess. You’ve never been to a Beltane celebration before?”

“Well, no, not exactly,” Harry admitted, looking back toward Draco. It was a mistake because as he did, he noticed that the shining stuff on Draco’s skin actually formed a pattern, one that moved, sliding over Draco’s body in a shifting, swirling way that was mesmerising. Even as he watched, glittery spirals seemed to drift across Draco’s chest and twine up his neck before sliding back down, dancing, teasing, enticing...

“Do you even know what Beltane is?” 

Harry bristled, eyes snapping back to Draco’s face. Draco was scowling. “Yes. Of course I do. It’s a celebration of the return of spring, of the renewal of nature, of life. It’s the time when –” He broke off as something else grabbed his attention. “Are those flowers in your hair?

Draco’s scowl deepened. “Focus,” he snapped. “Tell me, how do wizards celebrate this glorious rebirth of nature?

The flowers were tiny and white and Harry found himself longing to reach out and touch them, touch Draco, touch that pale hair that looked so soft... 

He shook himself. “With maypoles and flowers and fires and, um, a-maying?”

“And what is a-maying?” Draco asked, his tone sharp.

Harry gave him a sheepish look. The truth was he had no idea what a-maying was. He’d heard the term tossed around a bit, but frankly, it had never seemed important to figure it out.

It seemed he was wrong about that, though, because Draco was now positively glaring at him. “Sex, Potter. A-maying is sex. Beltane, for anyone old enough anyway, is about fucking.” Draco tossed his hands up in the air, apparently at his limit with Harry’s ignorance of Beltane customs. “I should have known. I should have known you were clueless, what with all your talk about feeling restless and your fidgeting.”

Harry blinked. “What? What does _that_ have to do with anything?”

“For fuck’s sake, Potter! You’re a _wizard_. It’s _Beltane_. It’s in your blood. Restless,” he scoffed. “Restless for a good fuck, maybe. Idiot.”

“So you knew the whole time and you were laughing at me?” Harry asked, anger building rapidly. The thought of Draco watching him shift and fidget all day, knowing what it was about, knowing that Harry _didn’t_ know, secretly laughing at him...

“Oh, calm down. We all feel that way today, okay? All of us. Pansy came by for a quick chat and wriggled so shamelessly in my lap, I felt like I should have given her a fiver when she left. I’ve already wanked twice today and I’ll probably wank again once we’re done here. It’s just how it is on Beltane.”

Harry’s anger vanished in a heartbeat, driven out by thoughts of Draco pulling on his cock. His own cock started to stiffen in response and he bit back a groan. 

Draco gave him an odd look before continuing. “Back to the matter at hand. You are not dressed for an orgy.”

“Orgy?” Harry nearly choked as new and even more distracting images popped into his head.

Draco sighed with what had to be exaggerated exasperation. “Beltane equals sex. Beltane celebration, lots of people, lots of sex. And you are not dressed like someone looking to get laid.”

Harry shook his head, redirecting his attention to the conversation. “Because I’m not wearing half a robe?”

“I am wearing traditional Beltane robes,” Draco said, gesturing to his clothing. “Lots of skin, easy access. You look like you were dressed by your grandmother. Or maybe an old spinster aunt who’s bitter about not getting any and doesn’t want anyone else getting any either.” 

“No one’s going to notice what I’m wearing,” Harry grumbled.

Draco raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you kidding? You go dressed like that, _everyone_ will notice.” 

Harry sighed, tired of the conversation and of feeling off-balance. They were here to work. He just had to ignore Draco’s outfit and his own libidinal challenges. They had a case they needed to be getting on with. “So what should I do?”

Draco gave him a thoughtful look. “Lose the clothes.”

Harry felt himself pale. “All of them?”

“Start with the jumper and we’ll see.”

“But it’s cold!” 

Draco shook his head. “It won’t be down by the fire.” 

Harry glared but he pulled off his jumper, letting it fall onto the grass. 

Draco gave him an assessing look. “And the t-shirt.”

Harry pulled off his t-shirt, dropping it on top of his jumper. He tried to ignore the fact that having Draco watch him pull off his clothes was more than a bit arousing. He wished he could blame it on Beltane but he had a feeling that having Draco’s eyes raking over his torso would have been arousing in the dead of winter. 

“Are we good?” he asked, starting to feel fed up with the entire situation.

“Not quite yet,” Draco said, still looking at Harry with a considering eye. Then he turned and started to pick some of the flowers that were growing in the clearing.

Harry held up warding hands. “Do not put flowers in my hair.”

Draco’s eyes flicked up to Harry’s face and he grinned. “Why? Afraid people might think you’re gay?”

“Piss off.”

“It’s all part of the look. Symbols of the season. It’s expected, trust me.”

Draco stepped over to stand in front of Harry and began to stick the flowers in his hair. Harry was keenly aware of how close their bodies were. He couldn’t take his eyes off the shimmering patterns swirling across Draco’s chest. Draco’s robe gaped open a little as he worked and Harry could see the broad expanse of his chest and his small, dusky nipples. He was seized by the urge to taste them, to lick each one in turn, to take one between his teeth, gently at first, slowly applying pressure until Draco gasped and writhed and begged him to stop...

“You’re lucky,” Draco said, drawing Harry’s attention away from his fantasy. “Your hair is such a rat’s nest that the flowers should just stay put.”

“What, you can’t braid them in?” Harry asked peevishly.

Draco dropped his arms and his robe fell back into place, obscuring Harry’s view of his nipples. Harry didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

“No, but if you’re going to be a little prima donna about it, I can call for one my house-elves to come do your hair.”

Harry glared at him.

Suddenly, inexplicably, Draco started rubbing his hands over his own chest and arms, his long fingers pressing into his flesh, dragging across his pale skin. Then, even more inexplicably, he reached out and rubbed his hands over Harry’s shoulders, chest and stomach. The touch had Harry gasping and his cock, which had been toying with the idea of an erection since Draco had walked up, was hard as a stone in an instant. 

He jumped out of reach, hoping Draco hadn’t noticed. “What the hell?”

“Fairy dust,” Draco said, and stepped forward to rub his hands up and down Harry’s arms. Harry glanced down and, sure enough, his torso and arms were now covered in the same shining, swirling patterns that covered Draco’s skin. Draco’s hands returned to Harry’s chest to transfer one last swipe of the glittering dust. One of his fingers skirted the edge of Harry’s left nipple and it was all Harry could do to bite back the whimper he felt building in his throat. Harry canted his hips back, trying to be as subtle about it as possible. The feel of Draco’s hands on his skin was maddening. He let his own hands fall in front of his groin, trying to shield his erection from Draco’s view.

“Real, too,” Draco continued, apparently oblivious to Harry’s condition. “Not that imitation shit the Weasleys sell at their crapshack.” He took a large step back and eyed Harry critically. “Hm. Well, it’s not much but it’s something.”

“So am I good to go now?” Harry asked, eager to get moving and put some space between him and Draco.

But Draco shook his head, still studying Harry. “Lose the belt.”

Harry took off his belt and the hiss of the leather as it slid through his belt loops was so impossibly erotic it made his knees weak. They _needed_ to get on with things or Harry was not going to be responsible for his actions.

But Draco was _still_ looking at him. “Hmmm. Still not quite... Ah!”

Draco whipped out his wand and waved it in Harry’s direction, his lips moving as he whispered an incantation Harry couldn’t hear.

He felt the effects of it almost immediately, though. “Bloody hell! Did you just Vanish my pants?” 

Harry looked down. Sure enough, his briefs were gone. His jeans hung so low on his hips that tufts of dark curls peeked over the waistband. It was only a lucky accident of angling that kept his rock-hard prick from showing, too. He blushed hard. 

“Draco! You can see my –”

Draco cut him off. “Yes, that’s the point. Things down there are in full-swing. Half the people are likely completely naked. No one’s going to notice a bit of pubic hair peeking over the top of your trousers. Well, they’ll notice it, but just in the way they’re supposed to.”

Harry stared down at himself, mortified. “I’m going to kill you tomorrow.”

“Hey, you were the one who said you knew what you were going to wear tonight,” Draco said with a shrug. “It’s not my fault that you were talking out your arse. Now, come on. Let’s get this done.”

Draco turned and started walking over the hill, leaving Harry no choice but to follow.

***

Harry chased after him, catching up just as Draco crested the hill. He grabbed Draco by the shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

“What?” Draco asked, shrugging off Harry’s hand.

Harry gave him an incredulous look. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Draco raised an eyebrow at him.

“Glamours? Disillusionment? Notice-me-nots?” Really, it wasn’t like Draco to forget something as basic as that, Beltane or not.

Draco’s eyebrow lowered. In fact, both of his eyebrows lowered, knitting together in a thunderous scowl. 

“Did you do _anything_ today besides squirm in your seat?” he demanded.

Harry looked at him, not sure what to say.

His silence only seemed to irk Draco further. “You didn’t even glance at the info Kingsley gave us did you?”

“I did!” Harry protested. “I read it all!” And he had. It had just been rather hard to concentrate at the time.

“Then surely you remember that we are on a powerfully magical site – one of the most magical sites in all of Britain – and that today is a day when ancient magic comes out and makes itself known.”

“Er… yes…”

“ _And as such_ ,” Draco continued, speaking loudly over Harry’s mumblings, “much of our own magic is wonky. Particularly those spells that aim to alter perception. So things like Glamours and Disillusionment Charms will be unstable. The last thing we need is to draw attention to ourselves by having our appearance change every few minutes or become suddenly visible in the middle of surveillance. No, we’ll do it the old-fashioned way.” 

Harry immediately spotted a rather large problem with this plan. “People will recognise us.”

Draco just shook his head. “Trust me, it will be dark and people will be much too absorbed in their own activities to notice us. Just brush your fringe over that scar and let’s go.”

“Are stunning spells going to work?” Harry asked as he tried to flatten his hair over his forehead. 

“They should. Spells that act on physical objects, like human bodies, are less affected. But still, be ready to jump in with your fists. Not that that should be anything new for you.”

They started down the hill toward the celebration. Draco had been right about not feeling the absence of his clothing. Before they even got close to the fire, the heat hit them, warming their fronts while the night air remained cool at their backs. They were dozens of people dancing around the bonfire. Harry had no idea how they could stand to be so close to it. It had to be hotter than Fiendfyre anywhere within fifteen feet of the thing. Still, it was quite a sight, the giant fire blazing over ten feet high, ringed by dancing figures that, at a distance, were little more than black silhouettes against orange and yellow flames.

As they got closer, however, the silhouettes took on clearer forms and features, and suddenly Harry understood why Draco had forced him to strip off before coming down. He’d been right – everyone would have been staring if he’d come down in his jeans and jumper. No one was wearing anything that even came close to covering their bodies. Everywhere he looked, Harry saw people in next to nothing. Draco’s silvery robes were a popular choice – Harry saw many people wearing them, not to mention several discarded on the ground. There were also witches in barely-there dresses, shirtless wizards in tight trousers, and people of both genders who seemed to be wearing little more than strategically tied ribbons. There were many people frolicking about in their undergarments, and more still who wore nothing at all, the glow of the fire flickering over their skin as they danced, whooping and laughing.

At least some of them were whooping and laughing. Others had moved on to the a-maying portion of the festivities. Everywhere Harry looked he saw people – pairs, trios, or more – kissing, groping, or just plain shagging. It seemed like there was no safe place for his gaze to land. When he averted his eyes from a nearby woman’s naked breasts, he found himself looking at a wizard giving another man an enthusiastic blowjob. When he glanced away from the threesome rolling around on the lawn, he found himself faced with a witch and a wizard twisted into an unusual sexual position that, frankly, looked painful. Finally, he gave up and stared at his feet. 

He felt a hand on his shoulder. “You look a bit traumatised. And here I’d always heard Gryffindor was the house of perverts.”

“Areshole. You could have warned me.”

“I quite clearly recall using the word orgy and talking about many people having sex.”

“Yes, but - Oh, bollocks. Never mind.”

“If it makes you feel any better, this particular Beltane celebration has a reputation for being especially large and especially hedonistic,” Draco said and Harry could practically hear the bastard grinning.

“Let’s just get on with it.”

Draco’s hand dropped from Harry’s shoulder. Harry glanced up at him and saw that he was looking a nearby knot of bodies, all very naked and very entangled. He was glad to see that, for all his nonchalance, there was some colour in Draco’s cheeks.

“Bloody hell, it’s hot down here.” Draco looked away from the group of writhing bodies and scanned the crowd that ringed the fire. “Let’s do a quick sweep of the area around the bonfire and then we can start into the surrounding areas – the fields and woods. In truth, I doubt Halebury’s by the fire. He’s probably secreted away somewhere with more shadows and easy places to hide. But still, we should –”

Draco broke off as a young woman approached them. She was dressed in the same sort of silvery, revealing robes that Draco wore, though hers clung to her frame, accentuating the swell of her breasts and the flair of her hips. Long, honey-coloured hair fell in a silken sheet down her back. Her eyes were wide and dark and framed by thick lashes. And they were locked on Draco.

She didn’t stop until she was only a few inches away from him, much too close for Harry’s comfort. Draco didn’t seem to mind though, judging from the way his eyes swept over her. She smiled at the once-over; her smile was slow and full of promises.

She tilted her head up to meet Draco’s gaze. “You look like a man who’s searching for something,” she said. She laid a hand on Draco’s arm, trailing her fingers over his skin. Harry’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “Perhaps I can help?”

Draco’s lips curved into a smile and his body relaxed into a languid pose that Harry’d seen before when they’d been out together after work. It was the pose that made Harry’s mind go to dangerous places, the one that was all confidence and magnetism. It was Draco on the pull. 

“Well, now,” Draco said. “That might be very –”

Harry cut him off. “He has company,” he said to the woman. To emphasise the point, he took Draco by the arm and yanked him to his side. Draco grunted in surprise, stumbling into Harry before righting himself and pulling his arm out of Harry’s grip.

The woman took a step back, confusion briefly on her face before being replaced by a look that was altogether more calculating. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she purred, not sounding sorry at all. “I didn’t realise you were together.” She stepped closer to Harry, running her fingers across his chest. “But, mmm, I’m kind of glad you are. Whoever said three is a crowd obviously didn’t grasp all the possibilities.”

Harry’s fingers closed around her wrist and he pulled her hand away from his chest. “Actually, I think they had it right.” He dropped her hand. 

Beside him, Draco sighed. “You’ll have to excuse my friend. He doesn’t play well with others.”

“Lucky you,” the woman said, smiling that slow smile again. “I like a man who’s not afraid to be possessive.” She gave her head a toss, making her hair ripple and gleam in the glow of the fire. “Well, if you boys change your mind, come find me.”

Harry glared at her. “That’s not going to happen.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “A girl can dream,” she said and wandered off towards a nearby group of men.

The second she was out of earshot, Draco rounded on him. “Merlin’s balls! What is wrong with you?”

Harry scowled. “Nothing’s wrong with me. We’re here to work, not to shag blonde strangers!”

Draco blinked and then a grin pulled at his lips. “So if she’d been a brunette, it would have been okay?”

“What?”

“You said we’re not here to shag blonde strangers. What about brunettes? Are they fair game?”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.”

“A ginger, then?”

“Can you be serious?” Harry snapped. Nothing about the night was turning out the way he thought it would. This was supposed to be a simple job. Get in, get the bad guy, get out. Fast, easy. It wasn’t supposed to be ancient sex magic and Draco dressed like a wet dream and beautiful women who came out of nowhere and reminded Harry of all the ways he wasn’t what Draco wanted. 

Draco waved a hand at him. “Oh, relax. Honestly, you’re so wound up today.”

“No shit,” Harry grumbled.

Draco laughed. “You should have just wanked like the rest of us.”

“I did.”

At Harry’s words, Draco blinked and his shoulders stiffened. Harry fought to keep his anger in check. But really, did Draco _always_ have to act so disgusted by any mention of Harry and sex? Why make jokes about wanking if he didn’t want to hear about it? 

Draco cleared his throat and looked out over the fire. 

Harry sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Let’s just get this job done. You’re right, I doubt Halebury is going to be out here by the fire. Too bright, too many people to see him. ”

Draco nodded, shifting back into Auror mode. “Let’s do a quick circuit around the fire, just to be sure. Then we’ll hit the woods.”

They turned to start off and Harry almost ran into a man who apparently had been coming up behind them. Harry’s hands shot out reflexively, grabbing the man by the shoulders to prevent them from colliding. 

“Shit. Sorry,” Harry said. “I didn’t see you there.”

The man was shirtless and his skin was hot under Harry’s hands, no doubt heated by the fire. He looked at Harry, brown eyes warm and laughing. He smiled and Harry couldn’t help noticing it was a very nice smile. 

“I know,” the man responded, his voice pitched low, his tone suggestive. “But I saw you.”

“Um...”

“I’ve been over there.” The man nodded toward a spot a few feet away. “Watching you. I saw that girl go away looking a bit disappointed. Got me wondering if maybe she wasn’t your type. Thought I’d come over and find out.” Then he reached out and ran his fingers down Harry’s chest, over his stomach, not stopping until he reached the dark curls that peeked over the low-slung waistband of Harry’s jeans. The man tangled his fingers in Harry’s pubic hair and tugged lightly, grinning. “Has anyone ever told you you kind of look like Harry Potter?”

Before Harry could decide how to respond, or even what to respond to first, Draco pushed forward, shoving Harry aside as he pressed his wand into the centre of the man’s chest. 

“If you have any brains at all,” Draco said, his voice flinty, “you will leave _right now_.”

Harry stared. Draco’s face had the hard, set look to it that Harry had learned to interpret as a danger sign. It usually meant that Draco was about three seconds away from some rather serious violence.

The man froze, his eyes locked on Draco’s wand. “Sorry?”

Draco’s eyes narrowed and Harry felt slightly panicked. Now was not the time for Draco to have one of his “reactions” to a Harry Potter fan. 

“You will be if you don’t leave _now_ ,” Draco said, his voice growing harder and colder with each word. Harry pulled out his wand, just in case he needed to intercede.

The man raised his hands in a gesture of supplication, his eyes never leaving Draco’s wand. “Sure. Yeah. No problem.”

Draco jabbed his wand forward into the man’s flesh before lowering it. The man turned away quickly and made his way into the crowd without so much as another glance in Harry’s direction. 

Draco watched after him until he’d disappeared from view and then turned to Harry, glowering. “Merlin, your fucking groupies are going to be the death of me.”

Harry sighed, caught somewhere between relief and annoyance. “You’re the one who said no one would be looking at us.”

“Yes, well, once we leave the fire, they won’t be. But you’re right, we seem to be attracting the wrong sort of attention. Here, take my hand.” Draco stuck his hand out.

Harry felt his eyes go wide. He looked at Draco’s hand doubtfully. “Um...”

Draco huffed and shook his hand at Harry, urging him to take it. “People by the fire are still looking for someone to shag. We look too available. We’re sending out signals that we’re open. We need to appear taken so no one else approaches us and wastes more of our time.” 

Harry could think of about a million reasons why taking Draco’s hand was a bad idea, starting with the Beltane-assisted erection that still strained against his jeans. He knew, he _knew_ , that touching Draco when there was magic stirring his libido and all kinds of inspiring examples around them was just asking for trouble. But Draco was glaring and still had a hint of violence about him, so Harry took his hand, though he couldn’t bring himself to look at Draco while he did it.

Draco’s skin was warm and unexpectedly smooth. Harry had always imagined Draco would have the same calluses that Harry had. After all, Draco played Quidditch just like he did, did the same work he did. But Draco’s hand didn’t have any calluses. His palm felt soft against Harry’s and the pads of his fingers were plump and yielding. Harry could imagine how they’d feel dragging across his bare chest, his back, his cock...

He looked at their joined hands, saw how pale and perfect Draco’s skin looked against his own, and was unsure whether he wanted to tighten his grip or let go. He cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. “And you think hand-holding will do that?”

“God, I don’t know!” Draco snapped, and he grimaced and shook his hand free of Harry’s. “You think of something, then!”

And just like that, Harry very much wanted to go home. He wanted to go home and not have to deal with Draco’s homophobia and inexplicable mood swings, not have to deal with his own painful arousal and the temptation of half-naked men who fondled him in public. And more than anything, he wanted to go home and forget about how holding Draco’s hand – even for a second – had his heart racing in ways that even ancient sex magic couldn’t explain away. But going home wasn’t an option. They had work to do and couldn’t leave until they were done. So he just had to stay focused. They had come to work. There was a job that needed doing. He’d just have to ignore the way the firelight flickered across Draco’s skin, turning the fairy dust into swirling patterns of flame that slid across his chest and over his throat...

As though sensing his thoughts, Draco took a step back and scowled. Harry pushed a hand through his hair. It was going to be a long night. 

Best to just get on with it. 

“Well, given that it’s Beltane and we’re trying to convince people we’re so into each other we’re not even noticing other people are here…”

“Yes?” Draco asked peevishly.

Harry gave him a pointed look. “You might want to stand a bit closer.”

Draco hesitated only a moment before he stepped closer. He didn’t do it by halves either, moving close enough that Harry could feel the hem of Draco’s robes swish against his shins. He was close enough that Harry could smell the flowers in Draco’s hair, their scent sweet and light. He was close enough Harry would only have to lean forward a few inches, press his mouth to Draco’s and –

He was close enough that Harry could see how tightly Draco’s jaw was clenched, how his lips were pressed thin. 

Harry sighed. “And maybe try looking like you don’t hate me.”

Draco gave his head a small shake and his features softened, the look of repugnance giving way to one of sly pleasure. Or the illusion of it, anyway; Draco’s eyes were still wary and sharp. 

“Good,” Harry said, nodding. “Now put your arm around my waist.”

Draco’s expression slipped momentarily but the languid look was quickly back. Draco’s arm slid around Harry’s waist, his hand moving along Harry’s side, warm, smooth skin gliding over his, and it felt even better than Harry had imagined it would, setting off trails of sparking pleasure. 

“And what are you going to do?” Draco asked, his tone suggesting he was still irritated despite his outer appearance. 

“Maybe something –” Harry’s voice caught, breaking off his words. He cleared his throat but his voice still came out as little more than a whisper. “Maybe something...” He reached up and touched Draco’s hair. God, it was every bit as soft as it looked. He ran his fingers through the silken strands. “Like this…”

He brought his other hand up, placed it on the side of Draco’s neck, his thumb coming to rest against Draco’s pulse. He was surprised to feel how fast it was, but perhaps he shouldn’t have been. After all, he knew Draco was annoyed and agitated at the moment. But as it thrummed against the pad of Harry’s thumb, it was easy to imagine that Draco’s heart raced for the same reason as his own, because he could feel his pounding, too. Harry could feel his heart pounding and his prick pushing against the front of his jeans and Draco was just so warm and so real and so there, his breath puffing against Harry’s mouth as he stared at him, grey eyes no longer wary, but wide and –

Draco took in a ragged breath. “Fuck. Kingsley is _so_ paying me hazard pay for this.”

The words hit Harry like a stinging hex and he physically recoiled, dropping his hands and starting to pull away. “Well, we could just try the Disillusionment Charm and take our chances.”

Draco’s arm tightened around him, pulling Harry closer again. “No, no. This is the best way. It’s just a bit uncomfortable. More than a bit, really.”

“Gee, thanks.” Harry gave him a sour smile.

“Oh, you know what I mean.”

“All too well.” Harry wriggled free of Draco’s embrace and took a large step back. “Look, I doubt this is necessary. Holding hands will work just fine. Can we just get on with this already?”

As it turned out, holding hands didn’t work just fine. Two men wandering around the Beltane fire holding hands but looking out over the crowd apparently served as an invitation to a threesome. Or moresome. After they were accosted for the fourth time (with Harry nearly being recognised twice), Draco wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist, pulled Harry’s arm around his own, and then glared at him as though daring him to say something about it. Harry didn’t say anything, instead forcing himself to relax into Draco’s body in a way that hopefully looked intimate – it certainly felt it, much too much so for comfort – and continued his surveillance.

It was all for naught, though. Halebury wasn’t anywhere to be found. 

“Let’s move on to the woods,” he said and Draco nodded.

The woods was small but dense. It was also packed full of witches and wizards who preferred to do their a-maying away from the bright blaze of the bonfire. Everywhere they turned shadowy forms writhed and rocked, and sound of sex – panting, moaning, and wet, rhythmic slapping – was all around them. Harry was quite sure that if his cock got any harder, he actually wouldn’t be able to walk anymore.

When he looked over at Draco, he found him grinning. “Perhaps I should have warned you that the fire was just the pre-show,” Draco said. “You’ve gone pale. Are you all right? Do I need to fetch you some water? Smelling salts?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“And miss the fun of you trying to act blasé about this? Never. Seriously, though, should I cast a blindfold spell for you? You can just keep your hand on my shoulder, I’ll guide you.”

“Shut it,” Harry growled and pushed forward, dragging a laughing Draco behind him.

For all the discomfort of being surrounded by sex, there was one good thing about being in the woods: in the woods no one looked at them. The people in amongst the trees weren’t on the prowl; they had already found what they were looking for and were now making the most of it. Which meant that Harry was finally able to step away from Draco. Unfortunately, it also meant that people were much less open to being looked at themselves. When Harry spent a little too long peering at a man who looked like he might fit Halebury’s description – a man who was also getting what looked to be a stellar blowjob from a woman whose grey hair was twined with flowers and ribbons – said man quickly sent a hex in Harry’s direction. It missed – thankfully, blowjobs disrupted one’s aim – but the smack Draco aimed up back Harry’s head did not.

“Ow!” Harry rubbed the back of his head. “What the hell?”

“If I hadn’t actually been in Stealth and Tracking with you, I wouldn’t believe you’d even heard of it before.” When Harry didn’t reply, Draco just waved an arm towards not-Halebury and his partner. “Don’t just stand and stare!”

“I can’t see in the dark. It takes more than a glance.”

“I know that, you idiot. But you don’t have to be so obvious about it.” Draco shook his head and moved further back among the trees. 

No more than three feet away, Harry heard a woman come to a screaming climax. He turned automatically toward the sound and wished he hadn’t. She was beautiful, the two men with her even more so. Harry’s cock pulsed. He squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment and then hurried after Draco.

It was slow work, picking their way though branches, tree roots, and underbrush in the darkness, all the while keeping watch for anyone who might be their target. It didn’t help that every ten or fifteen feet they happened across highly distracting scene. At one point, Harry was quite certain he saw his own would-be paramour pressed up against the tree while another wizard drove into him from behind.

After almost half an hour of traipsing around in the dark, Draco came to an abrupt halt. 

“What is it?” Harry whispered.

Draco’s hand came up in a warning gesture. “Shh!”

Draco moved off the path and leaned against a nearby tree. He motioned for Harry to follow. When Harry drew near, Draco grabbed him and pulled him tight against his body, his fingers digging into Harry’s shoulder blades.

Draco’s silvery robe was little more than a wisp of air between them. Harry could feel every inch of Draco’s body where it pressed against his own. He could feel the firm planes of Draco’s chest, the curve of his abdomen, the sharp jut of his hipbones. He could feel the rise and fall of Draco’s breath, each inhalation pushing him closer against Harry’s body. And he could feel the hot, hard length of Draco’s erection where it pressed against Harry’s hip.

“I think I see him,” Draco whispered.

The words were like gibberish; Harry couldn’t make sense of what was happening at all. He managed to mumble out a confused, “Erm?”

“Halebury. I think I see him. I just need to get a better look. Pretend we’re shagging for a second.”

Harry was quite sure he actually felt brain cells exploding. “Um....”

Draco huffed in irritation and Harry’s knees threatened to fold at the sensation of Draco’s breath puffing against his ear. 

“Just kiss my neck or something,” Draco hissed.

“You want me to kiss your neck?”

“For fuck’s sake!”

“Okay, okay.”

Harry took a deep breath and bent his head. His cheek slid against Draco’s neck. Draco’s skin was damp with sweat and the tendons in his neck were taut. Harry wanted nothing more than to lick the drops of sweat away, to close his teeth on the tight cords of Draco’s neck. And he could. He was allowed. Draco had told him to do it, wanted him to do it. He turned his head ever so slightly, brushing his lips against the skin of Draco’s throat...

“Shit. I can’t tell. You look.” 

Then Draco was spinning them around, pressing Harry back against the tree, and bringing his own head down so that his lips brushed against Harry’s jaw, making Harry very glad for the steadying tree at his back.

“Well?” Draco asked and then bit Harry’s earlobe.

Harry felt his cock twitch and knew Draco would be able to feel it, too. He did his best to hide his embarrassment as he scrutinized the target.

“Not him.”

“You sure?” Draco asked, his lips brushing against Harry’s ear as he spoke.

Harry fought to keep his voice even. “Yes, definitely not him.”

“Okay, let’s keep moving.” Draco pushed off of the tree and away from Harry, shooting him a smirk. “Nice hard-on, by the way.”

“I hate to break this to you, but you’re not exactly “at rest” yourself.”

Draco waved a dismissive hand at him. “Please, I’ve been horny all day, what with Beltane and all. Add to it all the nakedness and sex. Of course I’m hard.”

Harry gave him an incredulous look. “And yet it’s funny that I’m hard because...?”

“Because it’s you, obviously.” Draco’s lips quirked into a grin. “Honestly, keep up.”

“Wanker.”

“Oh god, you have no idea how much I wish that was true right now. Seriously, this might be the worst job we’ve ever had.”

* * *

They searched through the woods for hours, and in the process they were sworn at, spat on, hit on, half-molested, and fully-molested more times than Harry could count. His feet were sore, his head was aching, and he was starting to get hungry. He was also freezing. Away from the heat of the fire, walking around half-naked on the first of May was a decidedly chilly venture. He cast several warming charms but since they were constantly on the move, they did him little good. 

Not to mention that his cock hurt so much he thought it might actually be damaged. The arousal was constant. Every time his erection would begin to flag and he’d start to feel a bit of relief, Draco would haul him against some tree for surveillance cover. Draco’s scent would wash over him, his body would shift against Harry’s, and just like that Harry would be hard as stone again. It had reached the point where he feared he might cry from the sheer frustration of it.

Draco didn’t seem to be faring much better. His teasing remarks had long since dried up, as had his enjoyment of the scenery. He was tense and irritable, snapping if Harry so much as breathed too loudly, and had taken to hexing random people with impotency curses when he thought Harry wasn’t looking. Harry couldn’t even be bothered telling him off for it. 

Harry was just about to suggest they call it a night when he saw someone who looked very familiar over at a nearby tree. He flung out an arm and pulled Draco to him.

“Is it him?” Draco whispered into Harry’s neck, and, fuck, if his lips moving against his skin wasn’t enough to set Harry’s cock throbbing again. Bloody Beltane. Worst night of the year, hands down.

“I’m almost certain. Give me a minute.”

Draco’s hands crept up Harry’s sides in a convincing show of amorousness, making it difficult to focus, but Harry was sure. Not only did the general details fit the description to a tee – dark hair just past shoulder length with prominent grey streaks at the temple, tall and solidly built, dark eyes with thick glasses, short beard – but they were lucky enough to stumble across him near the woods’ edge. The trees here bordered an open field that was bright with moonlight, allowing Harry to make out the man’s features. Features that matched the ones in the photographs Harry had studied earlier that day.

Draco’s hands were moving across Harry’s bare stomach now and Harry didn’t know whether finding Halebury and thus ending the night’s work was the best thing that had ever happened to him or the worst. But found him they had, and now there was work to be done. “I’m positive, but you look, just to be sure.”

Harry reversed their positions, pressing Draco up against the tree, letting him peer over Harry’s shoulder at their target.

“That’s him,” Draco said.

“All right, how do you want to handle –”

Draco’s arm swung up and over Harry’s shoulder, wand extended. “Petrificus Totalis!”

Harry heard the thud of a body hitting the ground and then heard Draco shout another spell, followed by the sound of another body falling. Then Draco was roughly pushing free of Harry, muttering something under his breath. Harry watched as Draco sprinted towards the immobilised pair. He dropped to his knees by their frozen forms, staring each in the face for a moment before slapping each of them with an emergency transfer Portkey that sent them straight to a detention cell at the DMLE.

Emergency transfers weren’t used very often. Usually they were only done in large-scale emergency situations where an Auror couldn’t leave the scene but it was too dangerous to hold the prisoner on site. Procedure in such cases was to Portkey the prisoner on to a holding cell at the Ministry reserved for just such a purpose, where they could be held for twenty-four hours, giving the Aurors a chance to handle whatever situation was unfolding without risking losing the prisoner. The downside was that there was triple the paperwork when processing an emergency transfer prisoner and for that reason alone, Kingsley strong discouraged the practice.

Harry jogged over to where Draco stood brushing the dirt from his robes.

“Merlin, that was amazing,” Harry said, embarrassed to hear himself sounding somewhat breathless. “I’ve never seen you move so fast.”

Draco didn’t look up from his robes. “Shut up, Potter.”

“What do you mean, “Shut up”?” Harry demanded, his sudden annoyance clearing the breathlessness from his voice just fine. “I was giving you a compliment, you wanker.”

Draco’s head snapped up. “Just shut the hell up already!”

Harry gaped. “What is your problem?”

“My problem? What is _my_ problem?” Draco’s eyes were blazing.

“Yes. What is your problem?”

“My problem is that I fucking hate Beltane,” Draco growled.

And then Draco was on him. 

His mouth covered Harry’s, his tongue pushing past Harry’s lips before Harry had even processed what was happening. Draco’s hands were on either side of his face, gripping hard, his fingers buried in Harry’s hair as they kissed. As they _kissed_. Draco was _kissing_ him. 

He should stop him. Harry knew he should. If Draco was in his right mind, he wouldn’t want this. Harry knew that. He knew that Draco was straight; he didn’t like men and he didn’t like Harry. Not like that. It was just the Beltane magic getting into his blood, making him think he wanted this. In the morning, he’d regret it. He’d regret it and he’d be angry and it would ruin their friendship. Ruin everything they’d work so hard for and Draco would probably ask for a new partner and Harry would lose him, would lose everything. But, oh god, Draco’s tongue was in his mouth and Harry just wanted him so badly... 

Draco made a low growling sound that shot straight to Harry’s cock, shutting down all thought. Harry’s hands came up to grip at Draco’s shoulders, dragging him closer, closer, until Draco’s long, hard body was pressed up against his, so much closer than it had been when they’d been pretending. But god, it still felt too far away. He wanted to press Draco right into his skin. Harry pulled at Draco’s robes, the slippery fabric sliding from Draco’s shoulders but catching around his arms, stubbornly clinging to Draco’s frame when all Harry wanted to feel was Draco’s body against his with nothing between them. He grunted in frustration.

Draco’s hands dropped from Harry’s face. Without breaking their kiss, he untied the silver cord at his waist. He shrugged his shoulders once and the glimmering grey fabric fell from his body, leaving him completely naked. He pressed back against Harry and the feeling of Draco’s naked chest against his own made Harry’s head spin. His knees felt suddenly weak, really weak this time, and he had a panicky moment where he thought he might actually collapse. As if sensing this, Draco’s arms closed around him, holding Harry tight, kissing him harder, deeper, all the while.

One of Draco’s hands trailed down Harry’s back and dipped underneath the waistband of his jeans, fingers stretching down to brush against the cleft of Harry’s arse. The touch was electric and the shock of it made Harry stop, the reality of what was happening rushing back to the fore. 

Breaking their kiss, he pulled back. “Draco...”

Draco’s eyes flew open and he glared at Harry. “Do _not_ try to talk about this. Don’t even think about it. Just do it.” His hand pushed further into Harry’s jeans, his fingers so close to brushing against Harry’s arsehole, stealing Harry’s breath and his resolve. “Isn’t that what you Gryffindors are supposed to be good at? Rushing in without thinking things through? Don’t go all Ravenclaw on me now, Potter.”

He grinned at Harry, mocking and challenging and so very Draco that Harry thought just maybe this wasn’t a mistake after all. He grinned back and bit at Draco’s lips. “Slytherins. Always fighting dirty.”

Draco smirked against Harry’s mouth. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.” And then one of Draco’s finger pressed against Harry’s hole and Harry lost the capacity for coherent thought.

“Fuck, Draco,” he moaned.

“Yes, well, that is the idea.” 

His hand pulled out of Harry’s jeans. Harry was about to protest when he felt both of Draco’s hands at his waistband, undoing the button and pulling down the zip. 

“I know it’s only a single piece of clothing,” Draco said. “But I can’t help feel you’re horribly overdressed.”

He pushed down on Harry’s jeans and Harry shimmied out of them, kicked them away. They landed a few feet behind him, amongst the tall grasses of the open field. Draco grabbed his wand and waved it at the discarded garment, transfiguring it into a thick blanket. He pushed Harry towards it. Harry went gladly, pulling Draco down with him. 

They landed in a tangle. Harry felt Draco’s cock press hard and hot against his bare thigh and just like that his orgasm rocketed through him, intense enough that it pulled a loud cry from him and his vision went grey at the edges. He would have been embarrassed but Draco didn’t seem to be doing much better. He gasped in a sharp breath and rocked against Harry’s leg a few times before seizing up tight. Harry felt warm come splashing across his skin. Draco dropped his face to the curve of Harry’s neck and groaned.

Disappointment crashed over Harry. It couldn’t be over already. He’d probably never get to have this again. 

They both lay as they’d landed, motionless, but panting heavily. After several long moments, Harry’s breathing began to ease and he started to shift to sitting when suddenly Draco laughed against his neck and pressed his groin into Harry’s thigh. He was still hard. Draco’s hand found Harry’s cock and Harry realised he was still hard, too.

“Beltane,” Draco said by way of explanation and he bit Harry’s jaw. 

“I think maybe I love Beltane,” Harry said, laughing too. He rolled them over until Draco was underneath him. They were halfway off the blanket and Draco was framed in wildflowers and lush grasses, his pale skin luminous in the moonlight, the fairy dust gleaming as is swirled around his body. 

Harry needed to touch, needed to taste, needed to know every inch of Draco’s body.

Harry’s hands trailed along Draco’s jaw, down his neck, over his chest. His mouth followed, lips and tongue tracing the path laid by his fingertips. He lingered over the hollow of Draco’s throat, licking and kissing before moving on to his broad chest, to those dusky nipples that had taunted him earlier. He closed his teeth around each in turn, just as he had imagined, and Draco hissed and writhed beneath him. His hands came up to tug at Harry’s hair, twisting and pulling as Draco cursed and arched up, pressing into Harry’s mouth.

When Draco was shuddering and panting and gasping something that sounded almost like _please_ , Harry moved on, mouthing over Draco’s stomach, biting at his hipbones, circling closer and closer to his cock. It was unforgivable, really, but almost hearing Draco beg had done strange things to Harry’s insides and he wanted to hear him do it for real. And so he waited, torturing them both, licking and nipping at Draco’s thighs and nuzzling at his blond curls until at last he heard the words he was waiting for.

“Merlin, Harry. Suck me. For fuck’s sake, please, suck me.”

At Draco’s words, heat flared up Harry’s spine and he bent to his task with enthusiasm. He lowered his mouth over Draco’s hard prick, lips gliding along the velvety smooth skin. He took him in as far as he could and then pulled off again, his tongue dragging up the underside of Draco’s cock before swirling over the head. Draco groaned. Harry grinned and swallowed him down again. He sucked and licked and mouthed at Draco’s cock, spurred on by the delicious sounds Draco was making. When Harry took him deep, Draco growled low. When Harry tongued his slit, he gasped in quick, shuddery breaths. And when Harry wrapped one hand around Draco’s shaft to pump him in rhythm with his mouth, Draco moaned out nonsense words, interspersed with something that sounded suspiciously like Harry’s name.

Harry worked Draco’s cock until he felt Draco start to tremble, the muscles in his thighs tensing under Harry’s hands. But Harry wasn’t done yet, not by a long shot. So he pulled off Draco’s prick and nuzzled down lower, pressing his face between Draco’s legs to mouth gently at the soft skin of his sac, the firm roundness of his balls. He breathed deep, loving the way the smell of Draco was all around, warm and heady. Harry sucked one of Draco’s balls into his mouth and then curled his tongue at the other. He hummed with satisfaction and Draco’s hips jerked. 

Smiling, Harry played a bit longer before releasing Draco’s balls to moved back further still. He tongued at Draco’s perineum, his nose edging against Draco’s hole. He lingered for a minute, giving Draco the chance to stop him, but when no warning sound or stilling hand came, Harry licked his way up to the tight furl of Draco’s arsehole. He dragged the flat of his tongue over it. Draco made a sound suspiciously like a whimper and his hips tilted up shamelessly. 

The sound almost undid him, and Harry paused, willing himself back under control. Beltane magic or no, he wasn’t ready for this round to be done just yet. Once he was sure of himself, he put his hands under Draco’s arse, pulling him closer as he spread his cheeks. He pressed his mouth against Draco’s hole, teasing at it with tip of his tongue before working it properly, sucking and mouthing and licking hot wet stripes over the quivering flesh. One of Draco’s hands fell to Harry’s head, his fingers moving in Harry’s hair, gripping, twisting, then releasing, only to latch on again seconds later. 

The whimpering sound was back, its pitch more urgent, becoming a needy whine that was easily the hottest thing Harry had ever heard in his life. Harry spread Draco wider and pushed his tongue hard against the tight ring of muscle, thrilling when it twitched open and shut. The skin of Draco’s arsehole had a sweet, tangy taste to it. Combined with the musky smell of him, it had Harry’s mouth watering as he pressed his tongue deeper inside. 

He would have happily spent the rest of the night that way, bringing Draco off with just his mouth, but Draco yanked on his hair and muttered, “Get up here.”

Harry was on his knees in an instant, pausing only to conjure a palmful of lube. Rubbing it between his palms, he straddled Draco’s body. He reached back to shove two fingers roughly up his own arse, slicking and stretching his hole. As he pumped his fingers into himself, he grabbed Draco’s cock with his free hand, coating it with oil. Harry knew he should take a bit more time and care with both of them but after the night he’d had, he couldn’t wait any longer. He was ready. He was so bloody well ready. 

Shifting forward, he lined himself up with Draco’s straining prick and then sank down on it. He pushed down slowly, taking Draco’s cock into his body with steady determination. Several times he paused, eyes closed, overwhelmed by sensation. Each time, when he opened his eyes again, he found Draco looking at him, intense and focused. Only when Harry was fully seated, his arse grinding down against Draco’s groin, did Draco’s eyes flutter closed, his head falling back against the blanket, a strangled sound caught in his throat. Harry rose up and ground down against him again, and was rewarded with the sight of Draco’s hands twisting in the blanket.

“God, Potter,” he said, his voice a rough whisper.

Draco shifted beneath him, his hands coming up to guide Harry’s movements, encouraging him to find the right angle. Harry did and then he set to work, rising up and pounding down against Draco in a relentless rhythm. Draco’s hips snapped up to meet him, thrust for thrust. He watched Draco’s face as they moved together, his mouth open and panting, his eyes squeezed closed one minute, then flitting open to find Harry’s the next. The moonlight shrone down on them, turning the fairy dust on Draco’s skin silver. It slid over Draco’s arms, chest, and throat, making him look otherworldly. Draco was moaning and whispering half-formed words of pleasure and need in that raspy voice, and it was almost too much. It was almost too much, after years of wanting...

But then Draco reached up, his fingers tangling in Harry’s hair as one hand slid up to cup the back of Harry’s head and drag him down into a kiss. Draco’s mouth was hot and sure as it moved against Harry’s and Harry sank into it. He kissed Draco back and let everything else fall away - the woods, the field, the moon, the distant sound of other revelers, everything - until there was nothing except for lips and hands and bodies and need and the Beltane magic that wound around them.

***  
Harry woke slowly, the morning sun bright behind his closed eyelids, the sound of birdsong loud in his ears. He shivered, chilled by the dew-damp grass and the cool spring breeze. He opened his eyes, blinked once, twice, against the bright blue sky, and then groped around for his glasses. His fingers found them and he put them on, the world coming into focus. He was at the edge of the field of wildflowers, sitting, naked, on his jeans – apparently the Beltane spirits had undone Draco’s transfiguration at some point last night. He was also completely alone. Harry twisted to look all around. He saw a few far off figures stumbling through the woods but Draco was nowhere in sight. Harry searched the ground around him. He found his wand half-hidden under the leg of his jeans but no note in Draco’s handwriting, no scrap of Draco’s clothing, not even a petal from the flowers Draco had worn in his hair. There wasn’t one single thing to indicate that Draco had ever been there at all. 

***  
Harry moved quickly through the hallways of the DMLE. He had to stay calm. So Draco hadn’t been there, so what? He’d probably come back here to process the prisoners. And sure, he should have woken Harry before he took off but maybe Draco had just wanted to let him sleep. It didn’t have to mean Draco was freaking out...

Harry quickened his step.

The department was almost deserted. Weekend shifts were always a little thin when it came to staff but apparently when Beltane fell on a weekend hardly anyone bothered to show at all. There was a lone Auror huddled in the break room, blearily sipping coffee and looking miserable. Here and there an office light was on but Harry saw little movement and heard no noise. Maybe Draco hadn’t come here after all. Maybe he’d gone straight home where he could freak out in private. 

No, not freak out. Just rest after a long, tiring night. Harry nodded firmly to himself. 

Resting, Draco was just resting. 

He had to stop thinking the worst.

Harry rounded the corner and saw the door to the office he shared with Draco ajar, light spilling through the crack. Relief flooded him. Draco was here. He was here, working, not at home –

“It’s the end.” Draco’s voice floated out to him, pitched low but slightly manic nonetheless. “It’s over. My life is completely over.”

\- freaking out.

Harry closed his eyes and tried not to panic. So Draco was freaking out. Really, that was to be expected. This was Draco after all. He may have changed in a lot of ways since their school days but he was still prone to drama.

But it didn’t have to be the end of everything. Harry could fix this. He just had to act cool, like it was no big deal. He’d explain to Draco that it didn’t matter, it was just Beltane making them crazy, it didn’t mean anything. Never mind that it meant everything. Never mind that Harry had been dreaming about it since the first week of Auror training when he’d seen Draco in the showers after a gruelling session on hand-to-hand combat skills. Never mind that he’d obsessed about it almost daily since they’d been made partners and he’d realised there was much more to Draco than he’d seen back at Hogwarts. Never mind that he’d imagined in a hundred times over as he’d lain in bed at night, stroking himself beneath his sheets. 

Never mind that it had been better than he’d ever, _ever_ thought it could be. 

Draco didn’t have to know any of that. Knowing that would send Draco running for the hills. But if Harry could convince him that it was just a fluke, just a random bit of magic that caught them off guard, maybe, _maybe_ he could salvage their friendship. 

Another voice drifted out from the open door. “Darling, it’s really not that bad.”

Parkinson. Parkinson was with him. And Parkinson knew, apparently. Harry didn’t know what to make of that. On the one hand, she’d be sure to make light of the whole thing – for Parkinson, sexual encounters were about as common as breathing – which might help Draco to do the same. If she treated it as a modestly amusing encounter of little importance than maybe Draco would too and maybe he’d listen to Harry long enough to let Harry explain about Beltane and the magic and how it didn’t change anything. Of course, there was also a good chance that Parkinson would tell everyone in the office, and if anyone else found out, Harry was quite sure Draco would never so much as look at him again.

Draco’s voice was growing louder, his slightly manic tone edging towards full-blown hysteria. “Not that bad? _Not that bad?_ Pansy, I had sex with the man four times last night. _Four._ I even -” Draco’s words cut off. Harry couId hear him drag in a shuddering breath. His voice fell to a whisper and Harry had to strain to hear. “I even _bottomed_ for him at one point. It was the single lowest moment of my entire life.”

Harry’s heart lurched in his chest.

Parkinson scoffed. “Well now you’re just being ridiculous. Given that in your life you have served a madman, wore that horrible ruffled shirt to your parents’ Christmas party, and had sex with Daphne Greengrass, I hardly think shagging Potter, as a top _or_ a bottom, is your lowest moment.”

 _That’s my girl,_ Harry thought.

But Draco wasn’t having it. “That just shows how little you know me then, doesn’t it?”

“Draco...” Parkinson said with an hint of exasperated laughter.

“No. Do not use that tone with me. This is not nothing. This is something. A very big something that has destroyed my life.” Draco paused, and when he spoke again his voice was small and unsteady. “I’m just, I’m not like that. I swear I’m not. 

“Darling, it wouldn’t matter if you were.”

“But it would. It would matter to me. I know I’m not supposed to feel that way. I’m supposed to be changed, reformed. Enlightened. I’m not supposed to buy into all that bullshit anymore and I don’t for the most part. Truly, I don’t. It’s just this one thing. It’s different. I can’t help it. It just goes against everything I believe in.” 

Harry slumped back against the wall. He’d known Draco wasn’t all that comfortable with Harry’s sexuality but he hadn’t realised his homophobia went so deep...

“Don’t you think you’re being a little melodramatic?” Parkinson asked.

Draco made a tight, angry sound. “You don’t understand. Those people, they make my skin crawl. I just think about them and I feel, god, I don’t even know. Angry. Annoyed. Nauseous. When I see them, I honestly can’t decide whether I want to punch them or throw up.”

For a stunned moment, there was just nothing. Harry couldn’t seem to process Draco’s words, couldn’t make them make sense. But then his stomach clenched and his face flushed hot. His hands curled into tight, shaking fists and it was all he could do to keep breathing as the anger hit him hard and fast. 

But Draco wasn’t done. “And last night I was one of them. I wanted him, Pans. Merlin help me, but I did. I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted to feel his cock in my hand, in my arse, in my throat, any of it. All of it. It’s so, so wrong and I wanted it so badly.”

Harry felt sick with fury and heartbreak.

“It’s not wrong, Draco,” Parkinson said.

“Yes, it is! It’s completely sick. I can’t be like that, Pans. I can’t. I can’t be like that and still live with myself. And, oh god, my parents. Can you imagine what they’d think? They’d disown me. Well, maybe not my mother but my father would never speak to me again. And our friends? Oh, god, Pansy, no one can ever find out. Promise to me you won’t tell anyone.” Draco’s panic was clear in his stricken tones.

“Darling, please, I really think you’re overreacting.” Parkinson’s voice was gentle, soothing. Harry could picture her smoothing a hand over Draco’s forehead and back through his hair.

“Just promise me.” 

“I promise,” Parkinson assured him. “I promise, but honestly, no one is going to care.” 

“Merlin, when I think about it, what we did, what _I_ did, I just want to –”

Harry never found out what Draco wanted to do when he thought of them having sex because that was the moment he couldn’t take it any longer and pushed through the office door.

Parkinson and Draco both swung around to face him, Draco breaking off mid-rant. The colour drained out of his face so quickly it should have been comical. Instead, it made Harry want to break things. Most especially Draco’s nose.

“Potter? What are you doing here?” Draco asked as he pushed away from the desk where he’d been leaning, Parkinson close beside him. Harry could tell he was trying to appear casual but he was failing miserably, his back too straight, his neck too stiff. 

Harry gritted his teeth and kept his fists tight at his side. He was going to do this quickly and cleanly and then he was going to get the hell out of there. He kept his eyes glued on Draco as he spoke. “Parkinson, would you excuse us? I need to have a little talk with my partner. Alone.”

“Of course,” Parkinson murmured, little more than a blur of movement in his periphery as she darted past him and out into the hall, closing the door behind her. Draco glared after her for a moment and then glanced at Harry.

Silence hung between them, heavy and expectant. Harry stared. Draco couldn’t quite meet his eyes. 

Then Draco tossed his head, his arms crossing in front of him, and sniffed. “If you’re here to discuss last night, I have to tell you, I don’t –”

Harry cut him off. He’d heard more than enough of Draco’s opinion on last night. “I’m not here to discuss anything,” he said, and he could see Draco startle at the growl in his voice. “I’m here to tell you how it is. Monday morning, you are going to go to Kingsley’s office and you are going to ask him to assign you to a new partner.”

Draco did meet his eye, some emotion flitting across his face before he managed to hide it. Harry hadn’t been able to read the fleeting expression, but it didn’t concern him. It really didn’t matter how Draco felt about the situation; as far as Harry was concerned, there was only one course of action now. 

He pressed on.“And when he asks you why, you’re going to tell him you need a new partner because you’re a homophobic bastard who uses people he professes to loathe to scratch an itch and then not only disappears, but says disgusting, hateful things behind their backs. Things, by the way, that could get you fired from the department if I were to report them.”

Draco gaped at him, looking for all the world like he’d taken a Bludger to the head.

“You know, you really had me fooled ,” Harry said. “I thought you’d changed. I really did. I mean sure, I knew you had problems with the fact that I’m gay, but –”

“I’m sorry,” Draco cut in, suddenly finding his voice. “You think I have problems with you being gay?”

It caught Harry up short. Draco was going to deny it? 

“Draco, every time I talk about my love life, you get this look on your face like someone’s just dropped a Dungbomb in the room. Any time I stand too close or, Merlin forbid, touch you, you freeze up like you think I’m seconds away from assaulting you. And last night, before the Beltane magic apparently made you so horny you no longer cared who you fucked, you were twitching and glaring and making it so obvious just how revolting you found me, I’d have to have been Confunded not to have noticed. And if all of that hadn’t been enough to tip me off, the fact that I woke up alone in the middle of a field would have been a big hint.”

Harry sighed, feeling suddenly weary. Draco was back to staring at him, but instead of his mouth hanging open, it was shut tight, his lips pressed into a thin, grim line. 

“Honestly, Draco,” he continued. “I’ve tried. We work well together and when you’re not being a homophobic shit, god help me, I like you. Much more than I ever thought I would. And if last night was just a case of wild magic gone, well, wild or what have you, fine. I can handle that. But I will not put up with coming into my place of work and having to hear over and over how disgusting I am and how being with me was the lowest moment –

“Over and over?” Draco interrupted.

“What?” 

“You said over and over,” Draco repeated. “When have you heard me talking about you before?”

Harry gave him an incredulous look. Out of everything he’d just said, _that_ was what Draco was focused on? “I heard you and Parkinson talking the yesterday. You said the thought of sex with me made you want to throw up.”

Draco gave an exasperated huff. “Potter, you’re an idiot.”

 _”Excuse me?”_ Harry bit out, hardly able to believe what he was hearing.

But Draco pushed on, apparently oblivious as to how thin he was stretching Harry’s control. “You are a complete and utter idiot. The idea of sex with you doesn’t make me want to throw up because you’re a _man_. It makes me want to throw up because you’re _you_.”

Harry was completely speechless. After a moment, he managed to sputter, “I’m sorry, is that supposed to be better?” 

Draco waved a hand at him dismissively. “Oh, calm down. You’ve got everything wrong, as usual.”

“I just finished hearing you ranting about how much you hate gay people and how the fact that you had sex with a man pretty much makes you want to AK yourself.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“You’re honestly going to stand there and deny it?” Harry could hear his voice getting louder, sharper, but damn it, how stupid did Draco think he was? “Draco, I was standing right outside the door. I heard every word you said.”

“You might have _heard_ me but you clearly didn’t _understand_ me,” Draco said in a condescending tone that Harry hadn’t heard directed at him since they’d left Hogwarts. “I wasn’t talking about gay people.”

“You weren’t,” Harry said, dubious.

“No. I was –” Draco broke off. He grimaced, seeming to wrestle with himself. Whatever the fight was, after a moment he seemed to lose it. He heaved a sigh, rolled his eyes, and ground out through gritted teeth, “I was talking about Harry Potter groupies.”

Harry paused.

Blinked. 

“I...” he began, then faltered. Draco was scowling at him spectacularly. “I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t because you’re an idiot.” Draco’s scowl deepened. “And so am I, apparently.” 

Harry’s anger receded, leaving confusion in its wake; he couldn’t help feeling he’d lost the thread rather badly. “I still don’t...?”

Draco huffed again and his gaze dropped down to the floor where it stayed as he spoke. His words dripped with contempt. “Harry Potter groupies. You know, those people who clamour around you, desperate for your attention, dreaming of your affection, not caring that you don’t feel the same way, could never feel the same way. Only caring about the chance, the pure fantasy, that you might look at them, might touch them, might be with them.”

Harry took in the words, stunned. He stared at Draco. “You mean you...”

Draco didn’t look up. “Yes, Potter. Me.”

“How long?”

“For a while, all right? And don’t worry, I know you don’t feel the same way. I know that last night was just Beltane. I mean, I don’t blame you. I bloody well threw myself at you.” 

Draco grimaced, his eyes still downcast, his shoulders drawn up tight. He was the very picture of misery. It seemed like he was telling the truth but there was still one big thing about the story that just didn’t make sense. 

“But you’re straight...aren’t you?” Harry asked.

Draco flicked a derisive look at him. “Straight? What on earth gave you that idea?”

“Because you’re always talking about women?”

“It’s called bisexuality, Potter. Look it up.”

“But you never... with men...”

“Of course I...with men,” Draco shot back, mimicking Harry’s hesitancy. 

“But you never talk about it.”

“Because it freaks you out! You want to talk about acting strange whenever anything gay comes up, it’s _you_ who goes all funny when I get too close to you or talk about anything touching on your sexuality. The one time I broached the subject of personally finding men attractive you froze, made your extreme-panic face and nearly knocked something over.”

Harry remembered that day. They’d been talking Quidditch and Draco had made a passing comment about the fine arse on the Cannons’ keeper. At the time, Harry’d only been partnered with Draco a few weeks and had assumed Draco was taking the piss in a friendly way, trying to show Harry he was okay with Harry’s sexuality. Harry had been aware, then, that it would have been appropriate to join in on a bit of banter, let Draco know he understood what he was trying to do, but he’d been struck dumb by a sudden visual of Draco and the Cannons’ keeper (who did, indeed, have a fine arse) naked, entwined, and writhing. There had been an unfortunate bit of flailing on his part and by the time he’d regained control, Draco had been giving him a wary look and had tactfully changed the subject to a case they’d been assigned. 

“Look, I’m not stupid,” Draco continued on. “At first I thought it was because I was bisexual, but it’s not that, is it? It’s that, while you might like me as a partner, you _don’t_ like me as anything more and you’re terrified I’m going to make a pass at you. So I steer away from the topic. Call me crazy, but I’m not looking to put myself through the utter humiliation of hearing you say we’re better off staying just friends. The whole situation is pathetic enough without throwing complete mortification into the mix.”

Harry gaped, gobsmacked, for several long moments before choking out, “That is the most insane thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I know!” Draco shouted, throwing his hands up. “I know this stupid _thing_ I have for you is completely insane. That’s why I’ve never told you. I was never going to tell you. You were never going to know and it was going to go away eventually and everything was going to be _fine_. But then stupid bloody Beltane happened and now it’s all gone to shit.”

Draco collapsed into his chair. Harry knew he should say something but he couldn’t seem to form words. He stared mutely at Draco, but Draco had his head tipped back, his eyes on the ceiling, the corners of his mouth pulled down in a frown.

“You were right about one thing, though,” Draco said. “I do want to AK myself. A bloody Harry Potter groupie. One of the mindless, drooling horde. It’s just so pathetic, so fucking _common_ , I can hardly even look at myself in the mirror. And don’t even get me started on the whole “schoolboy animosity turns out to be sublimated attraction” thing. It’s completely humiliating. I’ve become a walking _cliché_. God, it makes me sick to think about it.”

There was, of course, one slight flaw in Draco’s thinking. 

“But you hate me,” Harry pointed out, feeling the beginnings of a smile pulling at his lips.

“I haven’t hated you in a long time,” Draco replied, his voice soft and tired.

Harry shook his head. He crossed the room until he stood in front Draco. “No, I know that. What I mean is you think I’m annoying. You hate the way I leave my old teabags on the desk and how I fidget when I’m bored. You always complain that I don’t think things through and end up making our job more complicated by rushing in without a plan. You never stop making fun of my clothes, my hair, my friends, my handwriting, my intellect...”

Draco gave a half-hearted smirk. “Yes, well, you have a lot of undesirable traits. That’s hardly my fault.”

Harry rolled his eyes and perched on the edge of Draco’s desk. “My point is Harry Potter groupies don’t do that. Harry Potter groupies don’t hate anything about me.”

Draco shot him a glare. “Fine, so I’m not a very good groupie. Happy?”

“You’re not a groupie at all, you git. The groupies don’t see my undesirable traits, not even when I try to tell them all the ways I’m not who they think I am. Besides, you just said that a groupie is someone who wants my attention and affection but will never get them. You already have those. You have for a long time.”

Draco straightened in his chair, his eyes wide as he looked at Harry. Harry felt his pulse pick up. He held Draco’s gaze, steady, solid. 

“Last night wasn’t about Beltane for me,” he said.

Draco stared at him for a moment and barked out a short, sharp laugh. One hand came up, gestured helplessly, and then fell back to his side. “Merlin. We really are both idiots.”

Harry grinned. “Looks that way, yeah.”

They fell silent. Neither moved. They just sat, staring at each other, until eventually it became awkward.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “So what do we do now?”

“Buggered if I know,” Draco replied.

A muffled voice came through the closed office door. “You go back home and shag like bunnies for the rest of the day.”

“Thank you, Pans,” Draco called. His voice was heavy with sarcasm but a grin curved his lips.

“Useful girl, that Parkinson,” Harry said.

“She has her moments.”

“I’m brilliant and you both know it,” Parkinson said.

“Go away,” Draco tossed back.

Parkinson’s laughter floated over to them and then they heard the distinctive sounds of her heels striking the marble floors as she walked away. They both watched the door, listening until the sound faded away to nothing. 

Harry turned back to face Draco. “So...”

Draco quirked an eyebrow at him. “So?”

Harry leaned in closer to Draco and was gratified by the sharp inhalation of breath he elicited. He started to lean in closer still when an unwelcome thought popped into his head, stopping him short. “I don’t suppose you’ve processed Halebury and his girlfriend yet?”

The gleam in Draco’s eye disappeared. “Shit. No, I haven’t.” 

“I reckon we should go take care of that.”

“Yes, we should. It will likely take a while.” Draco paused, and the corner of his mouth curled into a slow half-smile. “In fact, I expect we’ll be wrapped up in Auror business all day. Probably most of the night, too.”

Harry gave him a questioning look. Processing emergency transfers was time-consuming, certainly, but shouldn’t take more than five or six hours. Though it was possible he wasn’t thinking clearly at the moment; that slow smile of Draco’s was doing things to him. “Hm?”

“Well, look around. It’s nearly deserted today and the people who are here are only working at half-speed. We won’t be finished with Halebury until mid-afternoon, I’m sure. And then we have some remedial training to do.”

“Remedial training?” 

“Potter, your lack of understanding of wizarding customs is appalling. You almost jeopardized the mission last night with that god-awful jumper you had on. Clearly, we need to spend some time reviewing the basics of Beltane traditions.”

“What, because I selected clothes that covered more than ten percent of my body?” Harry said with a laugh, but then he flashed back to the image of Draco in his Beltane robes and his mouth went dry.

“Yes, we’ll definitely have to discuss the finer points of dressing for the occasion. But I was more thinking of brushing up on your knowledge of terminology.”

“Terminology?”

“Yes, terminology. Bannoch Bealltainn, clootie wells ...” He paused and gave Harry a look that had Harry’s cock perking up and paying attention. “... a-maying. These are things you need to know, Potter.” 

Cottoning on, Harry adopted a contemplative mien. “Mm, yes. I can see the importance of being well-versed in all things Beltane. But, you know, I’ve always been more of a hands-on type of learner.” His lips quirked in a sly grin.

“Yes, well, learning by doing often is the most effective approach. That and repetition.”

Harry nodded. “Repetition is definitely critical.”

“Exactly,” Draco said, his gaze growing so heated, Harry couldn’t believe he hadn’t combusted yet. 

Harry slid off the edge of the desk, moving to stand in front of Draco. He knocked Draco’s legs apart with his knee and stepped between them. Draco’s head tilted up to look at him Draco’s tongue darted out to wet his lips and Harry couldn’t have stopped himself from lifting a hand to run his thumb along Draco’s full, shiny lower lip if he’d tried.

“Maybe we should have a lesson now, before Halebury,” he said, his voice husky. “You know, a quick overview of the material.”

“Oh no, Potter. I don’t do quick overviews. I tend to be a very methodical teacher.” Draco stood, his body pushing against Harry’s as he rose, and Harry moaned at the feel of Draco’s erect cock pressing against him. “Let’s get Halebury processed and then we can get started on a _thorough, in-depth_ lesson.”

Then Draco stepped around him with a smirk and headed for the office door. Harry couldn’t hold back a frustrated groan.

“Come along, Potter,” Draco called over his shoulder as he opened the door and started into the hallway.

Harry allowed himself a moment to admire Draco’s arse before following quickly. After all, the sooner they finished with Halebury, the sooner they could start on the Beltane lessons. And if there was one thing the previous night’s adventures had taught Harry, it was that he bloody well _loved_ Beltane.

 

 

Happy birthday, Cheryl!!!

♥


End file.
